


The Cross You Bear

by reylo_garbagecan



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Nazi Germany, Archaeology, Badass Rey, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Inspired by Indiana Jones, Partners to Lovers, Past Relationship(s), Pilot Poe Dameron, Professor Ben Solo, Rating May Change, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rey Kenobi, The Family Business, a literal wingman, actual nazi phasma, ben and hux rivalry, except he doesn't fight the nazis because Ben does, han solo is indiana jones, he's also not dead, hux is a sympathizer, jewish ben, jewish leia, part-time, religious artifacts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-07-13 19:23:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16024367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reylo_garbagecan/pseuds/reylo_garbagecan
Summary: After investigating the disappearance of his former teacher and namesake, Ben Kenobi, the part-time professor, Ben Solo, is set on the trail for a long-lost religious artifact said to have the capability to heal even the most fatal of illnesses by a simple touch. He is brought into a race against the Nazis to find the last known remnant of the True Cross with the unwarranted and rather unwanted assistance of Kenobi's volatile granddaughter, Rey, who despises him. They are forced to cooperate and confront their complicated history in order to find the greatest archaeological find of their time and keep their lives while they're at it.





	1. There is Nothing Which You Can Possess

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write this little ficlet for such a long time, and i'm very excited to finally begin it! I just have one disclaimer: in this story, I've made both Ben and Leia jewish. I am not myself jewish nor do I know anyone personally who is, so I will do my absolute best to research what I can to make it as accurate as possible even as it isn't a huge part of the story, however, it's inevitable that I will make some errors and I just want to make it clear that I mean absolutely no offense with these errors and I am really trying my best. If you spot any, I will be happy to correct them! I will do my best to update regularly, but I do have several papers to write in college, so updates may be spaced occasionally, but fear not, I already have the whole story planned out and mostly written. I hope everyone enjoys and if you do, leave a kudo or (my favorite) a comment, and I'll do my best to respond as quickly as possible. Thanks for reading!

Ben Solo's mother always insisted on seeing him off to his plane when he leaved for his archaeological  _escapades._ Every time, she would put two frail hands on his shoulders to force him down to her level so that she could kiss his forehead. Every time, he would push aside the fact that he was much too old for her to do such a thing and pull her into the same, warm embrace. He could feel her nervous energy making the air between them thick and heavy. He pulled back and smiled the same self-assured smile that he inherited from his father, and consequentially, did not ease her very much given the nature of her husband's recklessness. 

"I promise I'll be careful."

 

* * *

  

_Crack._

Ben smirked despite the pain that was lancing through his head. The ache he would carry with him was well worth the sight of Armitage Hux guffawing at the blood dripping from his crooked nose. His adversary quickly schooled himself, puffing his chest out with wounded pride as the blood stained his mouth and sickly pale chin. The man sniffed and gestured to two different men outside of Ben's peripheral vision. He would have turned to look, but he was  _a little tied up._ Answering his curiosity, he received a sharp kick to his back, which, without the use of his hands, sent him careening into the ground. Just narrowly, he avoided cracking his own nose by turning his head as he collided with the dirt. Another man stepped into his line of sight to hand the sniveling ginger a handkerchief. 

Hux's voice was more particularly pinched and nasally than usual as he held the cloth to his nose, "Well, it comes to no surprise to me that you have a thick head, Ren."

His leather boot kept Ben's head anchored to the ground as he spoke to him, "It would give me great pleasure to squash it once and for all, the nuisance that it is. However, unlike you, I tend to follow my orders. The fuhrer, it seems, is in need of your assistance." 

Ben coughed out dirt and dust as he continued to make jabs at the man pressing his head into the dirt, his neck burning as it twisted at an odd angle to avoid a smushed-in face, "Since when were you a fascist, Hux? Last time I saw you―well, I guess you always did need a master, didn't you?"

"So long as there is money to be made, I will do what I must to support the company which you so cowardly abandoned―"

He laughed before spluttering into the dust, "You seem to have been doing just fine in my absence. At least leadership made you enough to afford your own  _cane,_ so I guess you aren't quite destitute enough yet."

Hux barked out a similar laugh and stepped off the other man's head, giving him a bit of a reprieve. The ginger stepped around him as Ben straightened himself to his knees. Ben had only the time to try to peer over the bamboo stalk that connected his bound wrists behind his head. Hux put his cane to use, rapping it across Ben's shoulder blades and letting him fall unceremoniously to the dirt once again before pressing the end of it sharply into his neck. Movement restricted, Ben did his best not to gulp in the dirt instead of air.

"As I was saying, I find myself in the unfortunate position of asking for your," Hux grimaced at the word, "help. Truthfully, you were the not the first person I would have gone to, but the former expert on this subject found himself at the end of a barrel. Since you studied under him, I figured he may have passed some of his knowledge on to you. For your sake, I rather hope he did, otherwise we will have very little use for you."

Ben ceased to struggle and staved off a biting sense of loss as he spoke words that were muffled into the dirt, "You want the cross. You killed Ben Kenobi."

The pressure on the back of his neck was lessened as Hux smiled down at him, crooning, "Oh, I do want the cross, but  _I_ didn't kill Kenobi. I'm a bit offended, Ren, that you would think I would―forgive me for my choice of words―shoot my own foot in such a manner. No, Kenobi smarted off to the wrong officer, who did not take very kindly to it. Don't concern yourself, the officer was duly punished, and Kenobi's brat was promptly threatened and released."

Hux allowed Ben to roll onto his side, and the ginger was pleased to find his face quite stricken, "And by released you mean?"

A proper scoff put the grounded man's mind at ease along with a, "Oh please, Ren, we're not savages. No, we dropped her off somewhere in Nepal."

Ben would have replied, but in that moment, his pilot burst through the thick, jungle foliage with a well-aimed pistol. Well, he found it well-aimed when the barrel was pressed up against the skull of the man that he reserved all his loathing for. Hux trembled like a leaf. Poe Dameron  _grinned._

All weapons were turned from one head of dark curls to another. Without meeting any resistance, Ben found his way back to his knees before pulling up to his full height (not without struggle due to the nature of his binding), which made him loom over the shorter lackeys Hux employed. As if he'd done it a million times before (an exaggeration, sure, but one based on truth), he pulled the bamboo over the top of his head and broke it on his knee. Hux decided that was a rather good time to draw his own weapon, but instead of facing the owner of the pistol, he aimed it at Ben.

Though he still shook with the combination of fear and fury, Hux was impressive in the way that his voice contained a valiant amount of false bravado, "Allow me to think the way you would, Mister―Dameron? I presume―if my men were to fire on you, you would only shoot me in your last moments. However, the problem you will face there is that I have one shot too. I would take special care to think about my actions before I made them were I you."

"You won't shoot me, Hux. Without me, you won't get Ben Kenobi's diary, and your new friends will be very displeased with you."

Hux smiled, but in the way that animals about to strike do, with too many teeth and a predatory curl in the lip, "Ah, but if I am dead then none if it will matter anyway."

Ben waited patiently for the next part of Poe's plan. He raised his eyebrows at the man so usually full of confidence chewing nervously on his lip. Ben groaned and mumbled under his breath while Poe just shrugged and smiled apologetically. He had no doubt that the shorter man was about to pull something off by the skin of his neck that his mother would undoubtedly blame him for. It was comical really how she had hired Dameron to go on Ben's adventures as an added protection when half the trouble they got into was all of the pilot's fault. So, when Poe grabbed Hux by his skinny neck and the ginger fired more in shock than anything as he was jerked back, Ben was not surprised. He was surprised, however, by the bullet that lodged itself in his right shoulder. Everyone paused in such a manner that Ben would have laughed at had he not  _been shot._ Poe realized how much trouble he was going to be in, and Ben could see the terror surrounding the anticipation of his mother's wrath―he was all too familiar with it―as it passed over his features. Hux stopped struggling as he stared bug-eyed at the wound he had given to his  _asset._ The henchmen around them could not figure out where to aim their weapons, for aiming them at the pilot would mean aiming at their boss and aiming them at Ben who was already shot seemed silly. 

Ben looked between the bullet wound in his shoulder and the tangled forms of Poe and Hux, " _Ow._ "

Poe groaned, "I'm fired."

Hux kicked back into action, struggling against his holder with pitiful ferocity, "Unhand me!"

While Ben pressed a hand into his wound in a vain attempt to staunch it, Poe made Hux a deal, "I'll think about it. In the meantime, why don't you tell your mercenaries to lower their weapons so you can live to scoff another day."

"Alright," the ginger spat, "lower your weapons."

Ben growled out in retaliation to the pain blossoming over his right side, "Toss them. I don't want anyone trying anything."

The soldiers did as instructed, tossing them into the surrounding thick, jungle foliage. Hux's face turned ever more into a malicious twist.

"Ren," he spat, "do not think that because you have by some miracle eluded the Order that you will be safe from us. There is nothing which you can possess that I cannot take away, and there is nowhere on land where you may hide."

Ben hid his grimace of pain with a smirk just before Poe released the ginger and made the run back to the plane, "Then I guess I'll just have to stay in the air."

 

* * *

 

Leia Organa-Solo was displeased. Her mouth had taken on that harsh line, which Ben always understood as the winds that preceded the hurricane. Both he and Poe had received a tongue lashing on the tarmac, as his father attempted to hide his bemused chuckles (his mother really hated to be laughed at) before he was driven back to his childhood home. When the sight greeted him, he silently groaned, not wishing to further invoke his mother's wrath.

"I thought that by allowing you to be my ride home that it was generally assumed I would be taken back to  _my_ home," he attempted to inquire as innocently as he could. 

His mother's grip on the wheel tightened, and really, he should have known better when she had insisted she be the driver and not his father, "Yes, that would have been the assumption,  _dear_ , however, I was also under the assumption that you would be more careful this time. So, let us  _assume_ for the time being, that the both of us will continue to be disappointed, and then perhaps you'll whine less when I correct that poorly attended to field dressing."

Ben grumbled, but he nevertheless acquiesced and allowed himself to be ushered into his old dining room. She none too politely pushed him into a chair before leaving to find her stock of medical supplies (she'd kept them well-stocked for as long as he could remember because before his adventuring there had been, of course, his father's). His father pulled a flask from his pants pocket and handed it over to him unscrewed.

"You're gonna want this, kid," he said with his signature wink. 

Ben made quick work of his father's hard liquor until he felt a pleasurable buzz numb his extremities, and he was able to greet his mother with a slippery grin. She leaned into him and sniffed before wrinkling her nose in distaste and scowling at his father. 

"I suppose it's your fault that he smells like a distillery, and I've not even been gone but for a few minutes."

Han shrugged apologetically, only causing his wife to roll her eyes and continue on with her task at hand, "Take it off."

Ben looked absently at his rudimentary sling, "The dressings or the shirt?"

Leia hardly looked up from where she was rolling up her sleeves and sterilizing her hands, "All of it."

He had to admit, the sling and the wraps had not been the most skillfully done when they easily slid off his arm. The most trouble he ran into was attempting to take off his shirt one-handed. His arm was snug in his sleeve, and the side effect of feeling more pleasantly numb by the minute was a lack of mobility and critical problem-solving. Before huffing in frustration, he managed to pull the shirt over his bad shoulder, but couldn't find it in him to manage the rest. He looked up sheepishly at his mother, who was blinking down at him half in surprise and half in clear disappointment. 

"Ben," she said as she leaned forward to unbutton his shirt, "you always take the harder path. I don't know if that's your father's obnoxious traits passed on or if you're just a ridiculous drunk."

"I think it can be both," Han grunted as he shuffled out of the room.

He wasn't sure exactly when his mother began to disinfect his wound, but he remembered with distinct clarity how much it stung. Even through the alcoholic haze, the burning and stinging cut through with painful sharpness, and he hissed, flinching away. Leia _tsked_ and continued her efforts despite his protests. Once she finished and redressed the bandages more snug than he or Poe ever could have managed, she pulled up a chair in front of him. The look on her face was softer as they simply looked at one another, his face being red from embarrassment. She sighed and pushed his hair out of his forehead, frowning as she did so.

"Look at this, you've even got a knob on your head. What can I do with you?"

"What do you mean, mother," he half slurred.

It was rare that his fearless mother ever showed vulnerability, and his chest felt five times too small as he suddenly found himself witnessing it, "How can I convince you to actually stay safe? You always throw yourself in harm's way and one day I fear you'll--well. I already lost you once, and I really cannot again."

There was no way for Ben to respond besides to stare into her knowing eyes with his heart in his throat as he reflected on the time he lost with his family as a result of his own foolish ideas.  _Why can't I stop hurting you?_

He hung his head in shame, "M' sorry."

She smiled and patted his cheek, "I know. So, tell me what's happened this time?"

A small smile formed in spite of his roiling guilt, and he gestured to the knob on his forehead she had mentioned in passing, "I broke Hux's nose."

Her face was very serious, "Then I am very proud of you. I despise that man."

Memories of the conversation he had had with the ginger thief washed over him, and he scowled, "They killed Dr. Kenobi. The Order's been hired by the Nazis to find the remnant."

Leia's expression was grave, "Then they were very foolish to kill him of all people."

"Apparently, I'm their next best option. They're going to be looking for me now."

A nod, and then something mischievous flickered in her eyes, "If Dr. Kenobi is...dead, then where is Rey?"

Ben's frown deepened, "Hux said something about dropping her off in Nepal."

"That would explain why she hasn't been responding to any of my letters in the past few months."

"You still write to her?"

His mother chuckled and tweaked his ear, much to his displeasure, "Of course, the poor thing never had a mother growing up, and the Lord blessed me with you, but I did always wish for a daughter. I hope wherever she is that she's safe, regardless of your _history_ with her."

"Well, I would be concerned if I were you. If Hux knows where she is then she's most definitely not safe."

"Aren't you," she said with that twinkle in her eye and a quirk in her brow.

Perhaps if he'd not been mildly inebriated, his brain would have known better than to walk himself into a trap, "Aren't I what?"

"Concerned."

If Ben were to deny concern for his former teacher's granddaughter (amongst other ways that she was known to him) he would most certainly disappoint his mother, yet if he admitted concern, he would be trapped into something--that much he could tell, "I...suppose so. She may wish for _me_ to be dead, but I wouldn't wish the same for her."

"Then as soon as the wound starts to heal, you should go find her."

Ben considered it. Never mind the whole list of reasons why he should not go into enemy-observed territory with a wounded shoulder only to rescue someone who hated him. 

"I'll _think_ about it."

He left the next day.


	2. I'm Your Goddamn Partner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two old chums engage in a friendly drinking competition, despite the fact that they are neither chums nor is the competition friendly in any type of way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this was based off of that scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark because I love Marion Ravenwood a whole lot. Also sorry for the abundance of dialogue, we'll get to world-building and Feelings soon ;)

It had been two weeks of searching that Ben had finally gotten a lead on the granddaughter of his former mentor's whereabouts. Poe had dropped him off close to a town and left to find a more suitable spot to refuel with the directions to stay put for a few days before he could make it back. The pilot had also told him that he would kill him himself if he either hurt himself again or got lost without him as he was in very little mood for another verbal assault from Ben's mother, his employer. It was within the town's run-down inn that he heard someone complain in their native tongue about the "disagreeable English woman." It fit her description perfectly. Only a couple sentences were exchanged before Ben praised himself for his good luck that this woman happened to be working for the local tavern and had appeared in the town under mysterious circumstances. 

When he stepped into the tavern at sundown, he smirked in delight and silently thanked his Maker. There, facing away from him and leaning against the bar counter to speak to a patron, was the familiar head of brown hair pulled back into the three buns that she just never seemed to be able to outgrow. Something inside him sighed that not everything had to change. Distinct memories came rushing back to him of sneaking around corners in the Kenobi mansion to scare a much younger version of her by pulling on one of those buns. The smile slipped from his face and the memories of little Rey were dashed as she spun around and caught his stare. 

No, Ben was wrong, everything changed always. The girl that stared back at him was no longer the girl he remembered. Sure, she had the same hair, freckles, doe eyes, and perky nose (that had once been very entertaining to poke in jest if only to see it crinkle up in anger), but all of her features suddenly seemed  _enhanced._ The hair fell in elegant wisps--effortlessly, he presumed--that framed the almost unfamiliar face. The freckles seemed all the more prominent on her flawless, honey-tanned skin. The eyes were almost lighter in color like a crisp glass of whiskey, and maybe he had never noticed how long those eyelashes _must_ have always been. The nose, well, the nose suddenly appeared the same, crinkled as anger distorted her features (somehow, it made her all the prettier). 

She held herself straighter, a callback to all those English manners classes she had been forced to take, and walked around the bar until she was just a foot shy of him, "Well, I never expected to have to see you again."

_Ah, that was right._

He kept his voice low as it seemed half the tavern had halted their conversations to watch the altercation brewing, "I wouldn't have bothered if it wasn't important."

She grinned, but it was malicious, "I despise you, do you know that?"

He nodded, "I assumed. Listen R--where are you going?"

With a loose hand, she waved him off and went back around to the bar, where she came up back up with a large jug of what was clearly some type of deadly, stiff drink, "I can't talk to you without alcohol, so you're going to sit right over there with  _this,_ " she shoved the jug into his chest, and he wrinkled his nose at the stench of whatever was inside, "and I'll bring over the glasses."

It was very little use, he assumed, to try and argue with her, so he made the mature decision to roll his eyes and follow her lead. As promised, she returned to him with a wooden tray piled with shot glasses. Ben raised an eyebrow to which she returned the gesture.  _A competition then._

"Rey, you do realize I'm about a foot taller than you? It's a bit of an advantage in whatever game you're playing. Besides," his face flushed as he gestured between the two of them, attempting to be as least offensive as possible, "I'm a-eh-and you're, you know?"

Her glare was seething, and she violently slammed two glasses onto the table so hard that he feared they would shatter, "Please, don't flatter yourself, only about half a foot, and I won't deem the last part with an answer unless you'd like me to tell your mother you were being a pig.  _Drink._ "

The first shot was taken easily, and he never broke his gaze with her as he tipped his head back, "You've not been in contact with my mother for a while though. Months if I recall."

It was Rey's turn to flush and she busied herself with pouring two more shots, "Oh, did it upset you that I corresponded with your mother? Well, after you left, she needed somebody to talk to."

Something like fury roiled in Ben's chest as he regarded her and took a second, a third, a fourth shot. Sure, Ben regretted ever leaving his family and...others behind, but she had no idea what he went through. Who was she to involve herself in his family's private affairs just because his mother was sentimental with her? Then something struck him.

"She had my father."

She took another shot--the fifth? sixth? his head was becoming rather muddled--and laughed at him, much to his growing displeasure, "Your father? Han is the father I was never able to have, but I can't forget how he disappeared about a month after you did."

Some sort of reality crashed in his mind, and he mumbled an, "I didn't know," before taking another shot.

She snarled cruelly, "Well, you wouldn't because _you weren't there_."

The room was spinning, and Ben usually stopped himself before becoming too far gone, but the guilt was eating him alive once again (which meant he took another shot), "Listen, 's not what I came here t'tell you," he hiccuped, "I know what happened to-to-hm-your gran--"

Her expression morphed into a wall of emotionlessness, "I don't want to talk about that, Solo. If you came here to give me your condolences, don't bother."

He shook his head, and the whole room shook with it, "No, you're not safe, you have to leave with me. Armta-mm-hugs- _Hux_ knows where you are."

Rey swayed slightly, he noticed, but that was the only indication of her inebriation (he was very impressed, which he wouldn't tell her despite being very drunk), "Yeah, the pompous murderer who dropped me off here, I know. I'd rather deal with him than go anywhere with you."

Ben rested his eyes and leaned on his hand for a moment, sounding very melancholy and much more pathetic than he would ever dare to be were he even slightly sober, "How can you hate me more 'n the man who-who _killed_ y'er gran-g," another hiccup, "father?"

She too hiccuped, and her eyes finally began to droop, though she somehow managed to speak perfect Queen's English (though he would only later realize that she had deflected his question with one of her own), "Ben, you don't care about me, you made that perfectly clear the last time I saw you. What do you really want?"

He shrugged and almost fell out of the chair, "M' not sure. I don't want you dead, know that much."

"And what do  _they_ want?"

Ben's addled mind could at least remember that particular detail, "Diary. Your's now."

Rey's eyes brightened, and maybe she wouldn't have if she'd not had an uncountable number of drinks, but she leaned in almost conspiratorially, "What do they want with the Cross?"

"Remnant," Ben blubbered to correct her, to which she rolled her eyes, "don't know. I know the myth. The Order doesn't want it, 's the noss-nots- _Nazis._ "

She visibly recoiled, " _Nazis_ ," she stood up and pointed angrily to the door, "then I don't want any part in this. You need to leave before you draw any more attention to me than what you already have."

He panicked a bit, and his voice rose despite his fear that he would be overheard (and also despite his mortification of not only slurring, but slurring loudly), "No! You can't stay here, 's dangerous. Don't be stubborn, Rey."

Her expression was unforgiving, "We're done here. _Get_. _Out_."

Stumbling to his feet, he attempted to heed her words while still pleading for her to see reason, "Rey, I know you have it and soon they'll know too. If an'thing happens t'you, my mother will be--"

Ben never finished that sentence because he stumbled and fell to the floor, effectively ending their conversation by knocking himself out. Before losing consciousness, he blinked blearily and thought he saw a pair of boots near his eyes and thought he felt a light touch on the back of his head. He maybe even heard someone whisper 'alright.' However, he had very little time to process this when black dots ate up his vision and left him sprawled out and defenseless at the feet of the person who likely hated him the most of anyone else in the world (which included Hux). 

 

* * *

 

_Why did his adventures somehow always end up with a headache?_

Behind his eyes was a dull throb that Ben had enough experience with alcohol to be able to locate the reason for. He surmised then, that the pain lancing from the back of his skull across the top was most likely due to the fall that he only half-remembered taking. In addition, his backed ached, he felt nauseous, and he did not know where he was. When he opened his eyes, he winced at the light pouring in from a nearby window, and he quickly surveyed from the view outside that he was on a floor above-ground. Swiftly, he jumped to his feet, obstinately ignoring how his head loudly argued with the sudden movement. 

"You're awake," the familiar voice made Ben's head spin to the doorway.

Rey was obviously faring no better than him as she too squinted against the light and ran her hand through the hair falling out of her three knots. The sight of her standing before him again felt much like the first time in the tavern, and he inwardly groaned at his traitorous feelings. As much as his brain tried to tell him, and as much as his blood seemed to boil under his skin, they were not the same people that they were four years ago. She had grown up faster than she had to, and Ben had to live with knowing it was his fault. No longer were her eyes soft to him, and he doubted he would see that softness ever again. Even as she stood leaned against the doorway with suspiciously none of the hatred from the night before betraying her cool expression, her eyes were still guarded and difficult to read where once they had been so expressive.

He winced as a sharp pain burned behind his eyes, and he rubbed the back of his head, "Unfortunately. Where am I?"

 "Spare room above the tavern. I had a patron carry you up and drop you off."

Eyeing the hard wood he had leapt to his feet from, he scowled and attempted to roll the stiffness from his shoulders, "You couldn't have had me dropped off two feet further on the bed?"

She crossed her arms and gave a competitive scowl in retaliation, "No, because it's my bed, and I would rather die than share it with you."

Despite his sour mood, he managed to conjure up a smirk, "I guess some things really don't change."

Maybe Ben had expected a well-deserved and long time coming punch across the jaw, but he had not expected a purposeful strike to his injured shoulder. He could have given her the benefit of the doubt, but from her satisfied expression as he hissed and doubled over and from the fact that it was obviously bound in a sling, she knew what she was doing. Before he could come up with any sort of reaction, she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down just a hair from her face, and he was halted by the magnified view of the distinct color of her eyes and the angry crinkle in her nose.

His heart sank with every word she angrily spat at him, "I don't care that your head hurts. I don't care that your back is sore. I don't care that someone managed to shoot you before I could. I do, however, care if you act as if everything that happened-- _that you put me through_ \--was some grand joke. You don't get to tease me anymore. Not after what you did to me, to your parents, to my grandfather, and to Luke."

Ben recoiled and he suddenly felt more bitter than contrite, "I have worked to make it up to my parents and against their better judgement they have forgiven me. I am sorry for how my actions affected you, and I'm sorry I never got to apologize to your grandfather, but if you expect me to feel anything for Luke," he cut himself off as his old signs of falling into anger washed over him accompanied by his darkest memories.

Both of them were trembling with anger, and Ben was quickly reminded of why things ended the way they did, " _How your actions affected me?_ Meaning you don't think you did anything wrong?"

He shrugged because he was feeling a bit spiteful, "Come on, you know it was never going to work. I just did what was best for both of us. I had to leave, and it was better if you stayed."

She moved to strike him again, but her emotions betrayed her, and he was able to stop her in time. A moment passed where they heatedly stared into each other's eyes, breathing heavily as his grip on her wrist tightened minutely until she jerked her arm away. 

"I hate you," she whispered, but it wasn't nearly as vicious a tone as before.

"That's fine," he replied cooly.

Rey gestured between the two of them, "This'll never work though unless we have some kind of truce. I'd like it if we could stay professional. No mentioning the past."

It sounded like a fair deal before he realized what she was insinuating, "Agreed--wait, what will work?"

"Our partnership," she smiled pleasantly.

"We don't have one."

She blinked with a sickeningly sweet sense of innocence, "The one I agreed to last night."

He pointed demandingly in her direction and stumbled over how he was supposed to respond, "Our-wha-hang on, that's not what I meant and you know it. You're coming with me the minute my pilot gets back, and I'm dropping you off with my parents as soon as we make landfall."

She tilted her head with feigned innocence, "Oh, well I never agreed to  _that._ I suppose then I'll just stay here and wait for your First Order to appear. From there on, I can assume that will be the last you see of either me or my grandfather's diary. Your mother will be furious with you, and you will never get the chance to search for the remnant yourself."

"They're not _my_ First Order," he grumbled.

Rey shrugged and walked over to a packed bag that he had not noticed was sitting on the floor, "Apologies, I can't keep up with which side you're on, you switch so often."

Ben was not sure if he should have responded with something snippy to perpetuate their malicious conversation or to swallow his pride and call a truce. He did not get the opportunity to pursue either course of action as the window to the far end of the bedroom seemed to explode. Well-trained in situations such as the one he found himself in, Ben quickly ascertained the culprit of the exploding window as a gun shot and promptly dived for the floor. To his surprise, before he could think of yelling for his disagreeable companion to do the same, he discovered her already behind the bed cradling a pistol with her hand. He was equally stunned to realize the pistol was remarkably similar to his own at the same time that he realized his pistol was no longer on his person and had most likely been removed the night before.

When no more shots came and all seemed to be uncommonly silent, Rey peeped her head over the bed to take a glance as she simultaneously grabbed an object from her open bag that looked suspiciously like an old, worn diary.

She turned to him, all past grievances put aside, and stated in a very commandeering tone, "That was a warning shot. Someone's coming."

Ben agreed, nodding along, "It won't take a degree to guess who."

She stood and made her way just to the side of the window, her boots crunching shattered glass, "We're safer by the window, they'll come through the door."

Ben shook his head, "I disagree, in situations with guns, you're never safe by the window, especially one that's already been shot through. Besides, shouldn't we find an escape route while we have the chance?"

Rey huffed, "In this case you _are._  You're in my territory now, so as much as you hate it, you're going to trust me."

Ben crouched and made his way to the other side of the window as he grumbled under his breath about getting shot. As he did so, he observed Rey peeling off her coat before using it to swipe all the remaining shards of glass from the windowsill. He decided that it would be best not to ask, especially as heavy boots began thunking their way up the rickety stairs, and the familiar sight of First Order foot soldiers poured through the open doorway. He turned to Rey who seemed unnervingly calm as she held her arms up in surrender. She caught his eye and with a tilt of her head, he did the same.

The last to walk in, of course, was Hux. He strolled in as unbothered as he possibly could. With a gesture of his hand, his lackeys began tearing up the room, ransacking the dresser, cutting open the mattress, dumping out Rey's bag of belongings. Ben smirked to see a thin bandage holding his bone-pale nose in place.

"How's the nose, Hux," Ben taunted.

Hux sniffed, "How's the shoulder, Ren?"

Ben clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "Touché."

Just as quickly as he had acknowledged him, he stuck his chin in the air haughtily and addressed his men, "Search them."

There was a flurry of being restrained by the arms and hands turning pockets inside out and being patted down. Ben watched Rey from his periphery view with a pit in his stomach. He had definitely seen her pull the diary from the bag. He watched in silent anxiety as she was searched. When the man in charge of searching her patted his way up to her chest, he froze and looked at her.

"Try it," she warned.

Ben stifled a chuckle as the man avoided that particular area like the plague and merely pat her shoulders and arms. Despite finding Ben's pistol in Rey's waistband, ultimately, their search for the diary proved fruitless--to Ben's bewilderment--which Rey stated as much when she was released and stepped forward to address Hux in particular.

"The diary's not here, and you won't find it without my cooperation. Luckily for you, I'm prepared to offer you a deal."

Ben's heart stuttered and he quickly thought back to her declaration that he had to trust her. He wasn't so sure as he watched her smug expression and confident gaze.

Hux seemed utterly amused, "Oh, good, let's hear it then."

"I will take you to the diary and interpret it--you'll find that I am a better fit than he is considering the diary belonged to  _my_ grandfather--in exchange for," she nodded in Ben's direction, "his life."

Hux smiled and shook his head, "That is all good and honorable but if you agree to give me the information I need, then there is no reason to leave him alive, as I'm sure you understand."

Rey gave her sweetest smile in response, "You misunderstand me, I hate this man and if anyone has the right to him then it's me."

Ben's heart truly stopped then, and he greedily searched for any kind of crack in her facade that he wasn't sure existed anyway. Rey gave nothing away, and Ben considered how much her hatred for him went. Perhaps, he should have made a more sincere attempt to apologize to her for his past discretions.

Seeing his adversary's genuine panic caused Hux to laugh, "Alright then, a deal is a deal. You give me what I need, and I will leave Ren entirely in your capable hands--"

"No," she demanded, "right now or you might as well shoot us both because you will never find that diary."

The ginger's mouth twisted as if he were mulling over something sour, "Very well," and he gestured for a man to his left to hand her the pistol back.

Rey wasted no time in swiveling to Ben to aim the barrel at his forehead from point blank range. He backed up a step without thinking about it and found himself between the open window and the hard, cruel set of her eyes peering from just above the cold, steel barrel of his own pistol. His body went numb, and for the first time in his life since he was a scared, scrawny kid, Ben froze in the face of danger. Nothing in his brain was working hard enough to think of a possible escape plan, and even if he could think of one in time, his limbs felt cold and heavy and totally unable to move when his brain was screaming for them to do so. Embarrassingly, he felt a lump in his throat form as he stared in her eyes, the eyes that once looked at him softly and crinkled in laughter when he had been able to cause them to.

Pathetically, the overwhelming urge to plead with those eyes long forgotten overwhelmed his brain, but his pride fought against his will, and all that came from his mouth was a strangled, "Rey."

She took another step forward, urging him further against the open window, and she pressed the barrel against his forehead, resulting in a flinch against the cold metal, her voice was dishearteningly soft and honest, "A heart for a heart seems right, does it not, Ben?"

The lump in his throat grew, but he spoke around it, "I'm sorry you hated me so much."

Her nose crinkled in that angry tell of hers that she seemingly had not outgrown, "That's not good enough, tell me you're sorry. _Mean it_."

Hux watched on in fascination and unbridled glee. Ben had always been a thorn in his side ever since he had been first introduced formally by their former boss and was an even bigger nuisance once he had killed the said boss and switched teams. What a pleasant coincidence that someone seemed to despise the man more than he did.

Ben closed his eyes and whispered, "I am, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left."

A soft, "thank you," was all he heard before he was shoved out of the window and began the plummet to his death.


End file.
